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Okay, the kid has moved out.  Luckily, she weaned me from her presence this summer when she was never home.  I still call her daily.  Is that wrong?  I’ve learned a few things since she’s been gone, like what it means to truly be alone.  Misguidedly, I had assumed I was “alone” because there wasn’t a husband or a boyfriend around, but I always had her.  She was usually nearby, and we shared a few favorite shows together, like True Blood, Breaking Bad, and American Horror Story.  Nothing like sitting there with your teen and there’s an orgy scene!  We would just laugh and look through our interlocking fingers over our eyes.
I know that I did right by her, and seized every opportunity to shed light on the dark.  I set the best example I could in not having a “drinking” environment or a swinging door of new “uncles” coming in and out of our lives.  I kept my mouth shut when I thought it was for the better.  I never judged stories she would share with me.  She had so many doctor’s appointments from age 15 to 17 that I don’t even want to tell you the inappropriateness of the jokes we told to deal with it all.  What else can you do?  Hopefully, that was the best lesson of all: find the humor.
The day she moved all her belongings, I had to work.  Her dad and friends helped and that was great.  Then I pictured coming home and seeing just a couch and a desk in her room—no art, no trinkets, no photos, no memorabilia—and falling to my knees, sobbing and probably crying myself to sleep.  That didn’t happen, thank God!  It’s definitely what I saw, but I also saw a skylight, tidiness, space, and a wide-open empty closet, where I could go crazy with putting my clothes in order!  I didn’t waste any time doing that—no offense, kid.
Now that she’s gone, I’ve relaxed some of my own rules and have hit a bit of a wild streak—if you call drinking beer and smoking cigarettes “wild.”  Like a slingshot pulled back, year after year, tension building, keeping it all together, then BOOM, the strap is set free and the rock goes flying.  That rock is me.  At first, I felt like I was flailing through the air, not knowing where or how I would land.  Then I remembered, I’m me!  So it’s more like a boomerang that is whipped into the sky.  It comes back, and guess what, it’s still a boomerang.  I will most certainly land on my feet.  I didn’t take all those years improving myself, learning, growing, and maturing to suddenly lose control.  Now I know exactly where I’m going and what I want.
This leads me to big changes and something of a goodbye.  Only to the Twin Ports, though; I will keep my column while residing in Rochester, Minnesota.  It’s near my hometown, and where we would cruise Broadway during our high school years and usually end up mooning somebody.  My family and close friends are all nearby, and it’s a whole four hours south!  Goodbye, tundra!  I’m not deluded, I know there is still winter, but nothing and nowhere compares to the winters here.  Hat’s off to those who can take it, but last winter did me in!
I always knew I would relocate when my daughter went to college, but I seriously had no idea where that would be.  For instance, if she decided on UW-Milwaukee, I was looking into Madison, where the hippie flag flies free and I’d feel right at home.  You get the idea—near her school.  Now that she’s picked to go to college here, still around her family and friends, I feel just fine in taking my few belongings and hitting the road to pursue a new life, even somewhat of an old.  
I’d love and am dying to share that there might be a certain someone who has something to do with where I chose to move.  I’ve been instructed by my publisher—repeatedly, in many shapes and forms of words—that if I’ve found a good man to keep him out of it.  I agree!  Especially since I’ve received a few angry emails of “That’s not how I saw it!”  Well, you didn’t write it.  They even threatened a rebuttal and swore the Reader was going to publish it.  But listen up, dip-shits: nobody would ever know that was you.
It’s exciting, scary, and thrilling to know I’m off on a whole new adventure.  Stay with me, Twin Ports—I’ll figure out something to write about.  I’ve dreamed of a “Try It” column for some time.  You know: I try something new, then share the experience.  Any suggestions?  I’m all ears (or eyes).
In less than a month, I’ll be gone from here, too.  I’ll always remember my first winter here in 1993, when it was sub-zero for about 60 days straight.  Mountains and mountains of snow that I never quite did admire.  Hey, though, how about that sky-walk system downtown!  Gotta admire that.  Of course, I will miss my friends, but it’s only four hours away and my daughter’s here, so you KNOW I’ll be back around to say “hey.”  I’ve maintained friendships over decades and miles, so four hours is nothing.  It’s all in the effort.
Again, I’m all ears and eyes to any suggestions you may have about where to take this column.  You can email dream_writer1969@yahoo.com with any feedback.  I’m kind of at a loss if I am to keep my current situation out of it, and you’ve already heard about everyone else!  It’s been said to me, “You must have dated a million guys!”  Well, not quite a million, and I won’t take offense as to how that makes me sound like a hussy.